


Moving Through a Mirror (not so) Clear

by Anonymous



Series: Femslash Feb-rare-pair-y [2]
Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:54:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You hate how your voice wavers. You hate how they turn to look at you and how it makes you flinch. But you love the small part of yourself that refuses to run away, so why not stick your nose a little further into someplace it doesn't belong.-or-How Chixie's sense of self grew three sizes that day.
Relationships: Polypa Goezee/Skylla Koriga/Chixie Roixmr
Series: Femslash Feb-rare-pair-y [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139327
Kudos: 7
Collections: Anonymous





	Moving Through a Mirror (not so) Clear

**Author's Note:**

> For my femslash feb-rare-pair-y. I have to deal with that cringe ass name and so do y'all. Chixie: Skylla c3< Polypa: I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem all that concerned about it?

The night is still young when you step out of the club.

And, despite the odds and circumstances, so are you. Your blood is pumping as the sounds of the crowd, even now, spur you on. And, hey, maybe that wasn't technically you up there, but it was your voice, your words, and your message. Someday, you're sure, those lines will blur. 

"...hired to _cull_ you!" whisper-shouts the silhouette of a girl from the mouth of the alley. 

The alley you are currently attempting to make your way out of. 

Fuck, how much bronze deferential respect are you going to need to get you out of this one? Maybe you should just hang back and let this all play out. You've had enough of ass-kissing for one night.

"Y'ain't the first, won't be the last. Now step aside, ranches don't run themselves." This voice is distinctively lowblooded, with the rough slang of a country bumpkin. It's charming to you in a way that makes you feel a little nervous. Should you be unlearning those linguistic tics? Have you given yourself away in front of your audiences with the wrong stress of your syllables? 

No. This is not. Your. Business. Your teeth are grinding against themselves with a tension you can't name.

"Your emotional detachment doesn't just make your problems go away. Doesn't this bother you?" The girl from before speaks up; her voice sounds clearer this time.

Can't mercenaries bully people somewhere more private? You've got places to be, people to dazzle, a hive to go home and half-starve in. It's kind of selfish of her.

Country girl sighs. You know she'll be fine. It's what country girls are known for: making do. 

But she's a bronze blood just like you, and you get a small urge to step in. Maybe it's because you've been so emboldened with your new persona lately. New mask, new you! 

...Right? Here's hoping. Superstars don't just make do; they create something new.

"Hey, can I help you two with something?" You hate how your voice wavers. You hate how they turn to look at you and how it makes you flinch. But you love the small part of yourself that refuses to run away, so why not stick your nose a little further into someplace it doesn't belong.

Is this what the mask would do?

"No," they both say in unison. For the first time, you catch a glimpse of them. Mercenary-girl is slight but sturdy, suggesting agility. Country-girl is stacked. Fuck. Wrong night to stick your nose up someone else's nook.

"Okay, well," you hold up a placating hand as if they were highbloods and needed any placating. "You're both in my way?" It wasn't meant to be a question. "Would you mind, you know, getting out of it?"

They do. Okay. Right. It was that easy. Country-girl opens her arm to lead your way out of the alley. As if you're somebody worth sending off, and not a c-list bronzeblood stuck between seeming somebody and being somebody.

As you pass through them, you can feel their eyes on you. And as you walk away, you can hear them shift back together. There's a small part of you that wonders if you're going to be the cause of someone's death tonight.

And you pause.

The girls notice. 

"You know what? No," you turn back around, all fire and fury. "I can't let you two... do whatever it is you're doing!"

They turn back to look at you. Country-girl is smirking. Mercenary-girl looks concerned. 

"Whatever it is..." you repeat. You didn't think you'd get this far.

"You mean the killin' me?" Country-girl comes to your rescue. "Or the gettin' away with it?"

"The- _both_! Why are you trying to kill her? And in an alleyway, where anyone can see you!" 

"I wasn't aware you were a professional. Should I be taking notes?"

You ignore her and turn your head towards the other. "And why doesn't it _bother_ you?"

"See! It _should_ bother you!" The mercenary spins on her heel to tower over the other. It's not very effective; CG has about a foot on her, not to mention a larger stature overall. You take a moment to admire her large stature. "This isn't pitch flirting, if that's what you're thinking."

"Heard." 

"I could _really_ kill you."

"Hey-"

"Oh, you're barking at a knot."

" _Guys-_ "

"Sides, I'm Konyyl's girl."

At once, the mood shifts. Tension explodes into laughter. You don't get the joke.

"Well, reckon' it's more like _she's_ mine." The olive wipes a tear from her eye at this.

"Um, do you mind explaining?"

"Oh, like it's any of your business, tenderfoot," the bronze teases. Her smile is so warm and bright with laughter it almost hurts to look at.

"Konyyl is her kismesis."

"And her rival, if I got that right."

"Oh," you start to giggle, realizing that they weren't really laughing at a joke but the situation itself.

"Why'd you take the job, anyway?" The two of them start to walk away.

"To warn you..." warn her about what? Fuck they're almost out of earshot.

Well, you should be grateful, right? Crisis averted, time to go sing your song somewhere else.

After all, the night is still young...

"Hey!" From up ahead, the bronze and olive girl have turned back to look at you.

"You came across so strong, I'm surprised you didn't wedge yourself firmly in between us." The olive looks straight at you from about five feet away, arms crossed but smile genuine.

"What-"

"I'm buying you a drink. Good, hard whiskey! That was the best laugh I've had in ages."

"Huh-"

"Oh, let her be a lady. I'll buy the next round. Then maybe you'll get our names."

Well, you've never been one to say no to a free drink, let alone two.

As you move to walk in between them, you wonder if this is how a shift starts: not with a thousand drops in a pond, but with hundreds of small cracks that finally burst.

The wall that bursts within you is very, very grey.


End file.
